


Taking Note of You

by TheGirlInTheB



Category: Avengers
Genre: Abelism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Clint's low self esteam, Disability, First Kiss, Get Together, M/M, hearing imparements, internalized ableism, note taking, some people are assholes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 14:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11739375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGirlInTheB/pseuds/TheGirlInTheB
Summary: Clint Barton has made it all the way to college and he's determined to do it on his own. But maybe getting a note taker wouldn't hurt.





	Taking Note of You

**Author's Note:**

> I do not live with a hearing impairment. I do, however, live with a disability and have used university and college disability departments to acquire services (including note takers). Other students I talked to expressed internalized ableism in not wanting to use the services avalable to them because it was viewed as a weekness/wanted to be seen as capable/not wanting to be thought of as disabled.

Clint Barton finds himself standing outside the college disability support office at three in the afternoon, just staring at the wide door covered in cheerful posters. He really didn't want to ask for help -Clint wanted to do this thing on his own, not be disabled or need handouts or whatever. Clint’s been getting along just fine faking his way in a hearing world. And no he’s not counting that time he got in the shower with his hearing aids still in, or how his brother Barney had gotten into the habit of punching him when he wanted Clint’s attention, or the time when he broke a kid’s nose for making fun of his wobbly-sounding voice...look that was then and this was now, okay? Clint’s in college and he’s much better at making his way in the world and Barney isn’t here to punch him. 

He wants to do this major on his own. He got in on an archery scholarship and if he wants to keep it he needs to maintain his grades. Not hard, right? Despite what his dad and a few foster parents used to say, Clint’s not stupid. But it turns out note taking is a pain. Like a real pain. Clint's not totally deaf but man it's hard to catch everything the prof is saying and sometimes his hearing aid batteries die in the last ten minutes of the lecture and ...he knows if he bites the bullet, swallows his pride, he can get a note taker from the disability department. 

And there’s a lot of pride to swallow. He wanted to leave that life of being seen as the disabled kid in the class behind. He doesn’t want help. But he does want those grades. And his archery scholarship. 

So fine, whatever, he goes, okay? He goes through that wide door -fingers brushing against the little blue wheelchair sticker on the glass as he pushes through into the wide waiting room. He goes and he signs up; the nice ladies behind the desk take his name and student number and he has to fill out a shit ton of forms and give them the documentation that yes, he does have hearing loss and yes it's permanent and yes here's the Doc's signature this is for real -he’s not just making it up. 

‘We have counselling, and a quiet room if you need to calm down,’ the lady at the desk says, ‘we can provide your course materials in braille-,’ 

‘I can read just fine.’ Clint insists. This is the other part of asking for help he hates. Sometimes even the ‘professionals’ are idiots. 

The waiting room has those stupid motivational posters and some student art and a few other people waiting for their counsellors to come and call for them. There's even one of those little sandbox zen garden things on the small table -those meditative coloring books, a box of kleenex and a DISABILITY TODAY magazines with a woman who paints with her toes featured on the front. 

'Mr. Barton?' a nice older woman with glasses and a round face smiles from the doorway. His new counselor is nice enough and she asks him about what he wants and needs and no he doesn't wanna book time in the test center -sure he can finish a paper without extensions ---yeah maybe getting the government to pay for a laptop would be cool (those are expensive and if someone else wants to foot the bill they can go right ahead).

'I uh...just wanted to get a note taker. I can't always hear the prof.' Clint mumbles and studies the carpet. He doesn't like shrinks or counsellors and he feels like a heel because this lady had only been kind really, but...

'We can set you up with someone -give you some samples of their notes and you can pick the ones you like best.''

''sure, sure' Clint nods, hands clasped tight in front of him as the woman gets up to print off a few copies of different note samples.

The first one looks like a chicken walked all over the paper and Clint pushes it away quickly, the second is written really really small so as to jam all the notes the writer could fit into the page and Clint is starting to think this was a big mistake. Person number three has written something rude in the margins but the last one is much better -highlighted, colour coded, written in an even hand --it's very visual and Clint can easily follow the notes along the page. 

'This one -I guess; this one's good' He nods, pushing the page towards to counsellor. 

'Wonderful. We'll pass on a copy of your schedule and student e-mail to ---,'' and she flips the page to find the name of the writer 'Phillip Coulson, and you two can arrange to meet for class.'

Clint's out of the office like a shot.

‘There’s pizza!’ His roommate Steve calls as Clint walks into their shared dorm. It’s got a small living space and a joint bedroom with two cots and small desks with ugly florescent bulbs installed in them. Clint’s taking his purple hearing aids out and puts them away before grabbing a slice or two and putting them on a paper napkin. Steve’s on a football scholarship and taking art history classes -and he’s done his beast to pick up some sign for Clint.

‘You go to the office today?’ Steve asks, making sure to face Clint so the other man can read his lips. 

‘Yeah.’ Clint nods around a mouthful of pizza, ‘I got a note taker.’ 

‘That’s great!’ Steve’s got his laptop on his lap working on a paper for his Art Since 1935 class, ‘Hey, what do you know about PicasSo?’ 

‘What?’ Clint’s brow furrows.  

‘Picasso.’ Steve tires to fingerspell the guy’s name, turing the laptop to show a painting of chaos and distorted faces...and maybe a horse? 

‘Guy draws faces weird?’ Clint guesses, ‘When’s the paper due?’

‘Friday. Which is why we’re going out tonight.’ Steve announces, snapping his laptop closed and tossing out his own grease-stained paper napkin. 

Clint figures he could use a beer too, today was stupid anyway and his own class readings weren’t going anywhere. 

The campus pub is loud, the music vibrates up through the floor and into Clint’s chest, the swell of bodies and bustling servers makes for garbled background noise that makes Clint wish he’d left his hearing aids off -he can’t hear a word Steve or Steve’s boyfriend Bucky are saying. He’s trying to watch their lips when they direct the conversation his way but it’s not much good. This was a dumb idea. Except for the beer and the nachos that Bucky ordered for them. 

And it’s not like Steve or Bucky aren’t great guys -they are, really -but they sometimes forget that he can’t hear so well. 

Clint’s checking his phone when the text comes in. It’s Phillip Coulson. The text is nice and neat and professional, asking if Clint wants to meet outside of his first class -he thumbs back 'sounds cool' and forgoes the little smily face emoji he’d have normally thrown up there for Nat or Steve. 

‘I’m heading out.’ Clint writes down on a napkin, passing it towards Steve. He thinks Steve asks if he’s sure so Barton just nods and heads for the door. 

He's pretty sure anyone who takes notes for extra credit has to either be a huge nerd or pretty desperate to bump up their grade, but whatever. As long as Phillip doesn't bug him about his hearing aids or his wobbly-sounding voice or fall asleep during class instead of doing his job Clint's pretty sure they can get through this unscathed.

 

'Oh no, he's hot.' the words leave Clint's mouth when he spots Phillip waiting outside the classroom door the next morning. Phillip Coulson's got these cute thin framed glasses and a worn grey University shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He's not big and muscled like Steve and Bucky -but he's not a string bean either. Phillip's got a face you might miss in a crowd but it stands out to Clint; soft with a couple noticeable freckles on his neck kissed there by the sun against deep brown hair. His backpack is slung over one broad shoulder ass he waits for Clint. Phillip looks neat and clean and Clint just rolled out of bed 15 minutes before he needed to be in class. He's worn this shirt the day before and his hair's a bird's nest. 

Great

Good job, Barton.

He debates ditching, but Clint’s the one who asked Phillip to be here -he picked Phillip’s paper - so fuck it. But if this (cute) guy makes one joke about his voice or hearing aids or tries to tell him how sorry he is that Clint is partially deaf this is over.  

'Hey.' He tries for casual, 'You're Phillip Coulson?'

'Phil -yeah. You must be Clinton.' The young man offers a firm handshake.

'Clint' 

'Clint, then.' Phil doesn't smile full out but it's there, a twist of the lips a gleam in his eye and Clint feels a flock of butterflies take wing in his guts.

Phil sits next to Clint in class, listening intently as Clint tries to keep up with his own notes -he's not just coasting on Coulson here, he just needs his note taker to fill in the gaps. Clint steals side glances at Phil's paper -he's got like 5 different colored pens and highlighters.... and shit his paper looks like a piece of art -Clint's looks way more abstract. Like Picasso’s. 

'You like a professional student or something?' Clint asks during the 5 minute break the professor allows. Phil's little twist of a smile comes back and makes the butterflies in Clint's guts flutter about.

'No, I just like to be efficient' Phil says, 'it's easier to study from this way.' Sounds like a professional student to Clint. Someone actually suited to class, not Clint who gets fidgety after an hour and bounces his knee up and down or spins his pen. These five minute breaks aren’t long enough. 

As the class wraps up Clint gets Phil's nice, clean, colour coded notes and there's a little Captain America shield scribbled in the top left corner by Phil's name.

Fuck even his name is written pretty

'You a fan?' Clint asks because he really wants to say something cool. Maybe get to know the guy a little better if they’re going to be meeting up for class like this. 

'Yeah sort of.' Phil's ears dust a little pink like he’s been caught out and Clint has to look back at the paper. 

Clint’s got another class in the afternoon and this time Phil’s shown up with two small cups of coffee in each hand. 

‘I didn’t know how you take it.’ He shrugs, looking down so Clint doesn’t catch the tail end of his sentence. 

‘This is for me?’ He tries to clarify. He doesn’t want to assume. 

‘Yes, I just wasn’t sure how you take your coffee.’ Phil’s looking at him now as Clint takes the cup. 

‘Hot -preferably.’ Barton tries to lighten the mood, ‘and I can’t always catch what you’re saying when you look away.’ 

‘Oh! I’ll keep that in mind.’ Phil looks apologetic and like he’s filing it away in his head for later. 

Sitting beside Phil at the long desks of the auditorium style classroom means that Phil’s a little closer -his backpack slung over the back of the chair, pens and highlighters spread out in front of him. The class is only an hour but it feels shorter somehow. 

Today hadn’t been as terrible as Clint had worried. 

‘You look happy.’ Nat’s at his place when he gets back to the dorms. Steve’s typing furiously trying to reach the 2000 word count he needs for Friday so Clint and Nat take the bedroom.  
‘I met my note taker.’ Clint confesses, taking out his hearing aids to charge the batteries. 

Nat signs teasingly, sitting cross legged on Steve’s cot. 

Clint conseads. 

 

The next day Clint’s hearing aid battery dies during his afternoon class. 

‘Aww battery, no.’ Clint’s voice carries a little in the auditorium as he bemoans the aids he’s taking out of his ears. He really doesn’t want Phil to see them so he’s quick about tucking them away but now he really can’t hear a word of the lecture. 

A little scrap of paper is passed his way.

‘It’s okay’ Phil’s neat writing says, ‘I’ve got you covered’. And Clint just stares at it. 

Sure, it’s Phil’s job to take notes, but...and Barton wants to kick himself because he’s warming up to the first cute boy who’s even a little bit nice to him. Come on, Clint, how desperate are you? 

But when Clint starts to fidget restlessly -the last half hour of the class yawning on, a small white cube with blue details is passed his way. One side has buttons that click like a pen cap -Clint can feel the sharp clicking through the pads of his thumb as he presses them. The other face has a toggle, another little gears to spin -and it’s enough to keep him occupied as he watches the slides and Phil’s writing. 

‘Thanks.’ Clint mumbles, or tires to. He knows his voice is all wobbly and probably too loud at the end of class without his aids. He doesn’t want Phil to make fun of his voice. 

‘It’s fine.’ Phil assures, trading the cube for fresh notes.

‘So uhh, I gotta go for practice.’ It’s a Wednesday so that means he’s hitting the archery range. 

‘Mind if I come watch?’ Phil asks, careful to face Clint when he speaks. And that kind of takes Barton back because Phil’s job ended with the class; he doesn’t need to hang around anymore. 

‘Sure, I guess. Might get boring just watching.’ He warns. 

‘I’ll manage.’ Phil assures. 

And Clint’s got to admit to himself as he knocks his first arrow, that having an audience makes him want to show off more than a little. But it’s good to have a bow in his hands. And Phil -Phil is amazed. His face wide open and watching each and every move Clint makes. 

‘That was amazing!’ Phil’s saying as Clint comes out of the dressing room. His enthusiasm is making the archer blush. But soon Coulson’s looking at his watch and grumbling about an evening class coming up. ‘But I definitely want to watch you shoot again.’ He assures Barton.

As the month goes by Clint sits with Phil in class. Phil brings him coffee in the afternoons and arms himself with colourful pens and highlighters. And he doesn’t make fun of Clint’s voice or the mess that is his own paper. 

They even meet up outside of class once or twice; Phil dropping by Clint’s with pizza or a coffee. Steve’s off at football practice leaving the small dorm just for them to study in. And now that Phil knows about Clint’s archery he’s quick to draw little arrows and targets in the margins of his papers. 

‘That archer looks like he’s gonna fall backwards!’ Clint laughs, ‘those arrows are huge!’ 

‘Don’t laugh; I worked really hard on that,’ Phil tries to scribble it out but Clint’s snatched the paper away to put up on the dorm fridge with a magnet.

‘It’s perfect.’ 

But what's even better is that Phil doesn't treat him like he's disabled like Clint had feared. And a part of him still fears. Because surely the other shoe is waiting; Clint’s got good stuff going for him now but it’s because he scraped it together and clawed his way towards it. Good things don’t just show up outside his classroom door. 

Even when Phil’s caught up with his own friends -Jasper and Maria -Clint hangs back because....because Phil has a life outside of being his note taker. And that’s all they really are, right? 

Phil belongs there; in the hearing world with his own friends. 

Nat signs, but deep down he thinks she gets it. 

And that makes Clint snicker because she would. Because Nat’s his best friend and she’d do that for him and he loves her for it. 

'Why don't we study together -I've got a midterm coming up-,' Phil asks after class one day. Clint's got a midterm on the horizon as well and usually he just crams the week before but...why not. It’s more time with Phil, right? 

'yeah, cool...sure, I've got to stop in at the student center for an academic advisor meeting first though.’ Clint allows.

'That’s okay -meet me at the library, second floor once you're done.' Phil smiles that little grin of his that reaches his eyes and Clint is practically skipping down the hall to the student center. 

 

When Clint arrives at the library Phil's got them a nice table by the big bay windows overlooking the bustling quad and the trees turning from green to orange-red-yellow-brown. And Barton has to stop and take it in. Phil’s wearing a sweater with the University coat of arms over a dark blue t-shirt. No glasses today, but he's still adorable -his notes spread out in front of him. 

The other tables are pretty packed with studying students but there's a quiet murmur only and Clint tries to remind himself to talk a little quieter.

'Hey' Phil's face lights as he sees Clint and nudges a cup of coffee towards him -still warm. Clint’s calloused fingers brushing against Phil’s as he takes the cup and sits down. 

They're doing pretty well, Clint's quizzing Phil with cue cards and Phil's helping Clint skim through an article that Phil had highlighted from last class and pointed to with a nicely fletched arrow. 

'This is definitely going to be on the midterm' Phil says, Clint leaning in because Phil's got his library voice on and that makes it a little harder to hear. And really, Clint's been trying to monitor his own voice too -really he has. Talk quiet talk quiet talk quiet. But...it's not working. He's just excited to be spending time with Phil and he just sort of forgets there's other people in the library. 

Phil has that effect on him. 

'Want me to highlight that part so you remember?" Phil asks. 

'Yeah, sure! Thanks, Phil, I'd like that-,'

'Oh my GOD! Shut up!' A voice says just loud enough to carry. 

The library corner they're in sort of freezes and for a moment Clint's not sure the voice was for him but yup, he can feel all kinds of eyes on him and fuck he'd been trying -,

The girl at the crowded table with the offended party snickers, some of the boys are tucking their faces behind their textbooks, one swats his friend on the arm 'come on man -,'

'IEEEYYYYYY WOU-D LIKEEE THAT' he drawls it out in a mock of Clint's wobbly voice making him sound dumb. 

'Stop it, Mitch,' but the girl's still laughing and Clint's face is going pale because this...this is exactly what he didn’t want Phil to see. This is why Clint...this is what he wanted to avoid. 

He can feel his fists balling up because the jerk behind him clearly needs a good punch but that will get him expelled for sure -no more archery then either.

'Clint-,' Phil's voice breaks through it and fuck -this is the worst. 

'I gotta go' Clint's gone -up and out of his chair with his backpack leaving the table of goons to enjoy themselves and Phil....Phil's still there with all their notes spread out. 

 

Clint's slamming his dorm door closed, tearing his aids out of his ears and stuffing them back in their case before his roommate Steve can say 'hey'. He doesn’t want to be here anymore. 

Steve asks from his own bed in the small shared room. 

Clint signs too fast for Steve to catch more than the feeling of it and he lets it go. Clint drops down onto the bed, face inches from the wall and tries very hard to disappear.

The well of self pity creeps in on quiet claws, dragging Clint deep deep down into whirling thoughts of what did you think would happen? And; Phil's gonna see you for exactly what you are and did you really think someone like him -someone wonderful -would like someone like you? He's just doing this for extra credit. He never liked you. 

Stupid, Barton. Getting attached to the first cute guy who was nice to you.

A scribbled note shows up sometime later. A small hand on his shoulder, the shifting on the small dorm cot - He knows it's her even without seeing the flash of red hair 

Her fingers spell out 

Clint looks up to glare at the Football team captain who innocently looks up from his art history textbook like a puppy caught chewing your best shoes. Some of the deep deep down recedes because here are two people who like him just fine -funny voice and hearing aids and messy self-esteem issues and all.

she signs, tugging him into her arms to quietly rub circles into his chest. He’s pretty sure an hour or so has slipped past because soon Nat’s signing, 

 

She coaxes. 

Clint sighs and just starts spilling his guts. About Phil, about the library and his growing crush and how that’s pretty much over and how he should just go back to the disability center and tell them it was a mistake to get a note taker and he doesn’t need one after all-,

and does she have his phone?

There's someone at the door -Nat's getting up off the bed to answer it and -Phil. Phil Coulson, notes tucked under his arms, two plates with pizza tacos….

Clint scrambles for his hearing aids as Steve gets up muttering something maybe about having to meet Bucky for...something or whatever. Nat winks, tosses Clint his phone back and ducks out.

'You ah, took off without your notes' Phil sort of shrugs with his hands still full of plates, 'I figured I should bring them back -as your note taker'

'Phil -I,' Clint starts,

'We can meet at my place -or here if you want -we don't have to go to the library,' Phil puts the plates down on Clint's small desk, ‘I’m sorry, Clint, I should have picked a better spot,’

Meeting up at Phil's? 

They hadn’t done that yet -and Phil was willing to keep meeting with him and he thinks this is his fault? 

'unless you'd rather not -,' he must have left Phil hanging for too long there. 

Clint quickly shakes his head and says 'no -I mean yeah I'd love to, but I...kinda thought after today-,'

'That up until we were rudely interrupted it was great hanging out with you and I'd love to do it more often -maybe even not just for studying if that's okay with you?' Phil's smile is hesitant, waiting, hopeful, ‘Maybe even call it a date?’

'Yes! Yeah, I would love that,' Clint's sort of got whiplash with how this day is going. Hiis cheeks dusting with pink that mirrors Phil’s own. And then his guts loudly remind him that he missed dinner.

Phil's face breaks into a real smile -the biggest and brightest that Clint's seen, 'Good, because I don’t want to eat pizza tacos by myself.’ 

'I uh, I kinda thought you'd not wanna see me,' Clint mumbles as Phil grabs the desk chair and sits, passing Clint his plate

'Because some asshole in the library can't keep his mouth shut?' Phil quirks an eyebrow questioningly and yeah okay it seems silly now that he hears someone else -Phil -say it

'and I kinda left you there,' Clint reminds

'I may have politely pointed out that table to security and they were less than politely asked to leave.' Phil shrugs

and Clint could kiss Phil right now -and not just because he's here, with tacos and scary efficient and cute...

'I mean if you want to,' and Phil's blushing pretty hard

'That was out loud wasn't it?' Clint's face reddens significantly. 

'Yes,' Phil nods, 'I can pretend I didn't hear any-,' But Clint's leaning over quickly and kissing the words from Phil's mouth. Really just a soft brush of lips, but Phil leans in anyhow.

'Just to be clear,' Clint asks quietly as he pulls away for a breath, 'I'm allowed to kiss you, right? Like there aren't rules about kissing your note taker?'

'None whatsoever.' Phil's already leaning back in.


End file.
